


Everlasting Ink

by misato



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Blow Jobs, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-10 18:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10444107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: I used the following prompt rather loosely:"You remove your tattoo because you hate the idea of someone dictating who you can be with for the rest of your life and the person who’s removing it happens to be your soulmate and they’re torn between letting you know and just not bringing it up because you kind of went there because you didn’t want a soulmate and vice versa."In which Harry thinks soulmates are stupid and Draco thinks Harry is stupid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenstickynotes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenstickynotes/gifts).



> this is a gift for isabelle (greenstickynotes)!!! thank you for appreciating my work!

If there was one thing Harry Potter despised about the wizarding world, it was the idea of soulmates. 

It was a stupid bloody magical thing. Tattoos would appear on their bodies once they came of age, ones that matched the Patronus of their soulmate. Not everybody had one, but most wizards and witches did. Including Harry.

On his seventeenth birthday, a swirling peacock had appeared in white ink on his left wrist. 

It had been easy enough to hide at first. No one had really cared during the war, and even after it was over, he  _ had  _ spent his whole life covering up unwanted marks, considering the scar that adorned his forehead. But people had ended up seeing it anyway.

Ginny had broken up with him because of it; she had found out about Dean’s tattoo -- a galloping horse, on his shoulder -- and had left. Ron and even Hermione had been overjoyed to find each other’s otter and terrier. He didn’t understand why everyone was so obsessed with the whole idea of soulmates.

Because worst of all, everyone -- and he meant  _ everyone  _ \-- wanted to be his.

-

“Are you Harry Potter?” his waitress asked excitedly, playing with a strand of her hair.

He was out to lunch with Ron and Hermione, but he nodded anyway. Sometimes fans ended up being nice enough, and he didn’t mind autographing something innocent.

“I knew it,” she said, grinning. 

There was lipstick on her teeth.

The girl pulled out her wand with a flourish and produced a Patronus in the middle of the restaurant. It was a dove. It fluttered around the table before knocking over Ron’s butterbeer.

“ _ Oi _ ,” Ron said, looking more than a bit annoyed. “Leave us alone.”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, his teeth gritted.

Hermione waved her wand and cleaned up the mess before turning to the girl.

“He’s not interested,” she said quite plainly, and the waitress scowled.

“I heard it was a bird or something, that’s all. You don’t have to be such a-”

Harry pressed a few Galleons onto the table to pay for their drinks and they all stood up and walked out into the snow without a word more.

It was the winter after they had all graduated, and Harry had been approached in this way at least three times a week. Ever since Rita Skeeter had published an article entitled “Fly Your Way Into Potter’s Heart,” a sensationalist thing that was both incredibly vague and wildly untrue, every witch he came across had been nothing but flirtatious. The only thing Skeeter had right was that Harry’s tattoo was of a bird of some sort, but even that had probably been a guess.

“I ought to get it removed,” he muttered, and Hermione perked up.

“Oh!” she said. “I know a place that does soulmate tattoo removals.”

She pulled out a quill and a scrap of parchment from her beaded bag and scribbled down the Floo address. 

“Here you go,” she said, offering the slip of paper to him with a grin, and he pocketed it.

“I’ll go see them tomorrow,” Harry said. “I’m sick of this.”

“That’s a shame,” Ron said. “It could be anyone. It could be her, or her, or-”

“Ron, darling, stop pointing at women, it’s rude,” Hermione said, sniffing. “But really, Harry, he’s right. You might want to wait to make a decision.”

“I’ve made my decision already,” Harry said. “I’ll see them tonight, in fact.”

And he did.

He ended up in a shop in the middle of Hogsmeade; a magical tattoo parlor called Everlasting Ink. 

They did painless tattoos, which were the same as Muggle tattoos, only they didn’t hurt at all. They did tattoos that were charmed to move; birds that would flutter in circles, or eyes that would blink. They also removed Dark Marks, free of charge. 

But Harry was here for something else.

“Hello?” he said, and a man stepped out of the back room.

He was wearing a tank top with the name of a wizarding metal band on it in lettering that Harry couldn’t read, along with a pair of ripped black skinny jeans. His blonde hair was spiked up. It was obviously done with magic -- not a hair was out of place.

He was the kind of guy the Dursleys would have seen and then crossed the street to get away from. And then Harry realised who he was.

“Malfoy,” he said. 

“Potter,” Draco said, his voice clipped.

He was still a git, it seemed.

“What are you looking for today?” Draco said. “Another fancy scar? I’d’ve thought one was enough, but to each his own, I guess.”

“I heard you do soulmate tattoo removal.”

Draco’s eyebrows raised a fraction of a centimetre.

“Oh, is that what it is then? The Chosen One doesn’t want a Chosen One of his own?”

“No,” Harry said.

“Alright, then,” Draco said. “Sit down, let me see what you’ve got. Hopefully your soulmate isn’t anyone worth keeping.”

Harry sat and rolled up the sleeve of his robes to reveal the white peacock.

It really was beautiful, with feathers that looked soft enough to be real. Harry had never shown it to anyone like this before, and he felt his face burning hot.

Draco ran a hand over it. Harry suddenly felt a warmth spread through his body, centering around the tattoo. It felt good. He looked at Draco to see if he had done anything but the other man’s facial expression was blank.

“Are you sure?” Draco said, after a few moments, his tone careful.

“What?” Harry spat, the word coming out harsher than he meant it to.

“Are you sure you don’t want to find your soulmate? I can’t put it back, y’know. The bond will be lost. Your soulmate’s tattoo will disappear as well.”

“Just do it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Draco fumbled for his wand in the pocket of his jeans, and pressed the tip against the white outline of the peacock.

He opened his mouth and then shut it again.

“Come off it, Malfoy,” Harry said. “I don’t mind not having a soulmate, really. Just get rid of it,  _ please _ .”

“It’s not that,” Malfoy said, his voice quiet.

He lifted his wand and closed his eyes and suddenly, a silvery white peacock burst into the air, wings spread out beautifully. It strutted around for a few moments and then disappeared.

“Oh,” Harry said, his voice heavy. 

“Exactly,” Draco said. “If you need any more proof, mine’s a stag. I’ve got a bloody pair of antlers tramp stamped above my arse.”

“Can I see?” Harry said, slowly.

“Why not?” Malfoy sighed.

Before Harry knew what was happening, he had tugged his shirt over his head and turned around so that Harry’s face was level with his lower back.

Harry pressed two fingers to the stag’s antlers before he could stop himself, and Malfoy actually whimpered.

“Are you actually an idiot, Potter?” he breathed.

“What?” Harry said, snatching his hand away.

“Soulmate tattoos are sensitive to the touch of their match. Didn’t you feel anything when I touched yours?”

“Oh,” Harry said stupidly. “Was that what that was?”

Draco groaned and turned around.

“It’s the middle of winter,” he complained. “Can I put my shirt back on now?”

“Or,” Harry said. “I could warm you up.”

“That has to be the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard in my entire-” But then Harry was kissing him, and Draco didn’t seem to care anymore.

They kissed for a little while in the middle of the tattoo parlor. Draco was a good kisser, and he used the right amount of teeth and tongue, but it wasn’t enough. Harry dropped to his knees pointedly. 

“I’m going to suck you off,” he said, and then offered him a small smile. “If you want me to, that is.”

“Er,” Draco said awkwardly, fumbling for his wand and locking the shop up with a single clumsy spell. “Yes, yes please, just yes, do it, yes.”

Harry laughed and unzipped those tight black skinny jeans to find a pair of green boxer briefs.

“Once a Slytherin, always a-”

“Oh, shut it, Potter. I’m sure yours are red.”

Harry grinned.

“Yeah, actually.”

He pressed an open mouthed kiss to the fabric, laughing softly, the vibrations humming against Draco’s erection.

“What’s so funny?” Draco said.

“I came here so that I’d never find my soulmate, and I found my soulmate,” Harry said, sucking lightly. “Don’t you find that ironic?”

“No,” Draco said dryly. “I find it stupid. Stick to your guns, Potter.”

“Do you even know what a gun is?” Potter chuckled lightly, taking Draco’s cock from his underwear and stroking it.

“Not really,” Draco confessed, a little embarrassed, but his inhibitions disappeared when Harry swallowed his cock in one go. “ _ Fuck _ .”

It was like Harry was trying to make the most obscene noises possible while he was down there, slurping and sucking wetly like his life depended on it.

“Shit, Potter, I’m close,” he whimpered, and Harry’s hand slid around his waist and started feeling for the tattoo that he knew was there.

When he found it, Draco practically melted beneath his touch. Harry rubbed his fingers against the ink, swallowing around Draco’s cock, and the other man came, his whole body trembling.

“Harry,” he breathed, and Harry grinned. “Can I do you?”

“You’re cute, Draco. I already came, though.”

“You did?” Malfoy said, looking more than slightly flustered.

“Yeah,” Harry said, searching for his wand and then spelling away the mess. “But Floo Call me. I’ll take a rain check on that blowjob.”

-

In less than two weeks, Draco ended up sleeping at his house more often than not, and it got to the point where he couldn’t hide it from his best friends anymore.

When Harry told Ron and Hermione, both of them burst out laughing.

“Well,” Hermione said. “You were always fond of doing the exact opposite of what you originally intended to do.”

“Fuck, Harry,” Ron said. “How good  _ was  _ he?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to write more, so here u go lol

Draco Malfoy stood half-naked in Harry’s bedroom. Harry was lounging on the bed as Draco talked, watching him with great intensity.

“And this one,” Draco said, pointing to the tattoo that stretched over the left side of his ribcage. “This one’s a snake that moves.” The snake tattoo, as if hearing Draco’s words, coiled up and then hissed. “Wicked, eh?”

“For Slytherin?” Harry said. “A slithering snake?”

“No, you twit, for Hufflepuff,” Draco said. “Of course it’s for Slytherin.”

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Harry said. “Which one’s your favorite?”

His lips twitched as he said it, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“You know which one.”

“Do I?” Harry was teasing now.

“Yours, Harry,” Draco said, his voice a shred of a whisper. “You know it’s yours.”

“I do know,” Harry said. “Come back to bed, love.”

Harry had taken to calling Draco ‘love.’ It was better than ‘git,’ or ‘wanker,’ Draco supposed. He sort of liked it. (Actually, he really loved it.)

Draco came back to bed. He always did, when Harry said it like that.

Harry wrapped those stupidly strong arms around his waist. He loved being the big spoon, and Draco didn’t mind being held. (He really loved being held.) Tonight, he was letting his hands wander in the way that his hands often did, and Draco was by no means stopping him.

Harry was wearing nothing but boxer briefs -- the red ones, like the bloody Gryffindor he was -- and he was getting hard against Draco’s arse. 

When Draco had actually given him that IOU blowjob, he had discovered something. It wasn’t that astounding, but it had resulted in a decent amount of gagging that Draco was not exactly proud of.

In short, Harry was hung. Like a goddamn hippogriff.

And Draco  _ loved  _ it.

Harry was grinding against his arse now -- rubbing against the fabric of his underwear with reckless abandon, and Draco still hadn’t acknowledged it.

“Bored, Potter?” he said, finally.

He hardly ever called him Potter anymore -- only in bed, which was most of the time, he supposed, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

“Mind-numbingly so,” Harry said. “Got any activities planned for the evening?”

“Oh yes,” Draco said. “I was thinking perhaps a rousing game of Exploding Snap?”

“Sounds divine,” Harry said.

He was still hard, rutting now against the small of Draco’s back, where he knew his soulmate tattoo was. He could feel it, the ink making his blood rush, and Draco gave in.

“If you’re going to do that, do it properly,” he said, rolling over and palming at Harry’s cock himself, stroking his length with one delicate hand. 

“Do you need me to prep you?” Harry said, reaching to cup Draco’s arse, pulling him closer.

“No,” Draco said. “We shag practically every night, if you don’t remember. Besides, I fingered myself good and proper before you got home from work.”

“You didn’t,” Harry growled, his voice deliciously dark.

“I did.”

And then they were kissing, Draco still with one hand on Harry’s cock, Harry struggling to get Draco’s boxer briefs off without removing his lips from Draco’s.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Harry whispered into Draco’s shimmery blonde hair, and Draco gasped.

He turned onto his back, spreading his legs and pushing his hips back.

“So perfect for me, love,” Harry said.

Draco whimpered.

“Just for me,” Harry growled, and  _ Accio _ -ed the lube from the nightstand.

For someone who had come to try and get his tattoo removed, Harry had really gotten into the whole soulmate thing. Not that Draco was complaining; Harry had his cock halfway up his arse and he certainly didn’t want it to go anywhere else. But it made him wonder if the only reason why Harry was with him was because of their situation. He wondered if Harry loved the man behind the tattoo.

“Would you hurry up back there?” he said.

Harry slammed into his prostate and then grinded slowly against it. Draco gasped.

“Potter, you’re fucking amazing at that.”

“I’m amazing at a lot of things,” Harry said.

“Prove it,” Draco said.

“Prove what?” Harry said, thrusting erratically now.

He did that when he was close to coming.

“Prove that you’re amazing at being my boyfriend,” Draco said, forcing the words out, and Harry came, spilling into his arse.

“Oh,” Harry said, pulling out and stroking Draco’s cock as he spoke. “Was that your way of asking me out? I sort of thought we were already together.”

“So this isn’t just a hookup?” Draco whispered.

He was still hard beneath Harry’s touch.

“No!” Harry laughed, incredulous. “We’ve been fucking for weeks, Draco. I told Ron and Hermione already. We went to  _ brunch  _ last Sunday.”

“I guess you’re right,” Draco said ruefully.

“Now that we’re on the same page, me being your boyfriend and all, can I eat you out?”

“If you want,” Draco said dryly, like Harry had asked if he could do his Potions homework, but they both knew Draco loved it.

Harry pressed a wet, open kiss to Draco’s hole, licking at the cum that had spilled there, and Draco whined. He was already close, and was incredibly sensitive.

“Please?” he breathed, and Harry licked his way inside, fucking Draco with his tongue until Draco writhed.

He came into the sheets and Harry smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the pair of antlers above his arse.

_ “So this isn’t just a hookup?” _ Harry said, mimicking Draco, and Draco grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it.

“Shut up, Harry, or I won’t pay for brunch this Sunday.”

“That’s it, we’re through,” Harry said, but he was smiling.

-

They had brunch with Ron and Hermione that weekend.

“Hello, Draco,” Hermione had said, rather cordially.

“Hi,” Ron had said, as if he was forced to be there by his wife. (He was.)

“Hello,” Draco said, looking mostly at Hermione and giving her a nod of what seemed to be acknowledgement and sincere apology.

Hermione nodded back, an unspoken  _ “I forgive you.” _

“So, Draco,” Ron said, after a few minutes of dry conversation and general small talk. “Has Skeeter got anything right? How big is Harry’s cock, really?”

“Massive,” Draco said, wickedly.

Even Hermione started outright laughing at the look on Harry’s face.

Harry hated his boyfriend almost as much as he hated his best friend.

He supposed that was a good sign.


End file.
